Type of Woman
by Luci-Marlena
Summary: There are brazen courageous women who sigh and give annoyed glances to women who insist on bringing their newborn, crying, needy, and sticky children to adult places, like movie theaters and shopping malls. They are my heroes.


**Disclaimer:** All of the characters, concepts, and anything affiliated with the _Twilight_ saga belong to (their rightful owner) Stephanie Meyer. The rest of the work belongs to me and should not be copied in any way, including translations, without my explicit consent.

Also, I do not own _On the Waterfront_… even though it _is_ a badass movie.

Major thanks to Flyaway Dove for Beta-ing this.

This is my first onesie since the plagiarism incident so forgive me if it's not my best. I'm still trying to process things…

Set: Sometime after BD.

**Leah POV**

**Note: No Nessie imprint.**

_Type of Woman_

There are two major groups of women in the world. One group consists of those who want to have kids, and the other consists of the ones who don't.

The women who want have kids have wanted them all their life and have been preparing themselves for the daunting task of taking care of another, fragile life by playing with dolls, taking care of their siblings, caring for the young ones at school.

Then there are the women who are adamant about keeping their uterus embryo free. These women they do whatever they damn well please and don't really care if it pisses anyone off because, really, they're only looking out for themselves and not some pea-sized thing in their stomach. Generally, these are the women who sigh and give annoyed glances to women who insist on bringing their newborn, crying, needy, and sticky children to adult places, like movie theaters and shopping malls.

These women, as brazen (courageous) as they are with their glares and sighs, know that they can't take care of children like other women can, mostly because they don't want to and they do not have the patience.

Within these two groups, there is a tiny portion of women who change their minds. (Yes, women can change their minds and still be right at the same time.)

Don't try to tell them that they're being hypocrites. Foolish men have tried and, well, let's just say that now they just agree to whatever those women say.

Anyways, the women who change their minds are often the women of the "Sperm is not meant for my Uterus" group. All their lives they have stuck by the notion that they are simply not meant to be mothers. This is because they don't have the patience, the temperament, or the ability to soothe young children with their voices; basically, they feel that they are unequipped to be mothers. But one day, things can change.

Because, honestly, if those preppy girls who insist on being brownnosers and babysit little Tommy and Judy while Mom and Dad go out for a night on the town can go handle the responsibilities of being a mother, then they sure as hell can.

But no, this realization is _not _the thing that will change their minds, helping them see that they can be mothers.

That would be too easy.

No, one day, they will meet a man.

But not just any man, he will be _the_ man.

Yeah, _that_ one.

The man that changes you forever, the man who gives you those corny ass butterflies in your stomach, who makes you smile just by being there, who makes you want to be the type of girl that wants to cuddle. The Prince freaking Charming that will make you crave the oh-so-glorified and highly overrated 'off into the sunset ending. And, trust me ladies, he will come. You may not believe it, hell, you may even reject him a time or two, but this little bugger will not give up.

One day, you ladies will meet the man that will make you crazy and happy and get you thinking about commitment, about marriage.

About… _more._

But the thoughts don't stop there. This man has more special powers. He will not only bewitch you into dreaming of a wedding, but having a family together with a "gorgeous girl with his nose" or a "beautiful boy with your eyes." These daydreams, ladies, will transform you into something completely different; a mix of both types of women.

But only for _him._

Sam was never that man.

On the few occasions that we did happen to share a bed, (most of the time it was after we had sex and I was too tired to get out of bed and sneak back home, having used all my energy pretending to be satisfied by Sam's "lovin' time"); we stayed on polar opposites on the bed. I refused to be cuddled, snuggled, spooned, or anything else of the sort.

I enjoy my space and I made sure that I kept it; I stayed on my side of the bed and he stayed on his. (The pillow I had dividing us also helped; Sam was always so sticky and smelly after sex.)

The next morning, I would throw my clothes on, rush out the window and run home before my parents came knocking on my door, yelling to wake me up for school. This continued until he disappeared. After that, well, we never even got past second base. Then Emily came and Sam got all "Me Tarzan, you Jane. You must come with me and be my wife," signaling that things between us were officially over.

I guess our sleeping habits should've been a clue that Sam and I weren't "meant to be". It takes a lot to be able to sleep with a person. There are a lot of bodily functions that you aren't aware of when you're sleeping that take place when you go 'beddy-bye.' For one, your mouth hangs open in the most unattractive and disgusting manner possible. Sure, sure, you can all say that you don't drool, or snore, or leak serum from your eyes, or kick in your sleep, but the truth is, everyone does. And it's disgusting.

Not to mention the sounds.

Ugh.

The grumbling from the chest, the groaning, the snoring, the mouth breathing…

As I was saying, it takes a lot to be able to put up with actually sleep with someone. And while I was with Sam, I noticed just how disgusting people are when they sleep. God, having to share a bed with him was worse than the Chinese water torture, and that's saying something.

He would stretch his entire body out, flinging his limbs out in all directions. His mouth would hang wide open, drool would escape his mouth, he would snore throughout the entire night, and then he would mumble and whimper until morning. Like I said, it was awful. But, if I loved him, and if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, I would be able to deal with all of his annoying little traits, right?

Wrong.

For once in my life I am thankful for the imprint between Sam and Emily, because if there wasn't, then I would be the one sleeping next to, (or as far as the bed would allow), Sam for the rest of my life.

As you can tell, I haven't slept with many people in my life. (There was Sam, Emily after the "bear" clawed her face off, my Mom after Dad died, and Seth because he was the best damn pillow at naptime.)

And then there was Jake.

With Jake, with Jake it was different.

I remember the first time we slept together, and I mean _really_ slept together. We were just hanging out, watching movies with the guys, and lounging around on the couch. Quil left first, saying that he wanted to say goodnight to Claire. Then Embry and Seth left because they needed to get some sleep for their Sociology class the next day. All the guys left, but Jake and I just stayed where we were, watching the genius that is Marlon Brando in _On the Waterfront_ for the fourth time that night.

It was right in the middle of Terry's big speech, when he was saying his infamous line, "You don't understand. I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let's face it. It was you Charley," when we fell asleep. Jake was sprawled out on the couch, his head resting in my lap. I was leaning on the arm of the couch, trying to keep my eyes open. I don't know if it was the dull light of the TV, the soft sounds coming from the movie, or Jake's soft snores lulling me to sleep, but I fell asleep in an instant.

When I woke up I was lying down on Jake's chest with his arms tight around my waist. What surprised me the most was not that I had somehow moved around throughout the night and wound up in Jake's arms, but that I hadn't felt suffocated or trapped there. Instead, I felt protected, comfortable, wanted. It was nice.

I liked it.

A little too much.

Soon, I found myself cuddling with Jake all the time. When lounging on the couch I'd find myself hugging his shoulder, leaning on him, sitting on his lap: things that I wouldn't normally do.

Ever.

With _anyone._

That's where it all started. Cuddling. After the cuddling came the calls.

That's right, I started calling him. Why? I have no idea. Just to say 'hi' I guess.

And then it escalated. That's right ladies, it got even worse. I would stop over at his house just to hang out, play silly board games with him, watch those stupid "rom-coms" (they were chick flicks) with him because he has a secret obsession with them, and all of those other stupid girly things.

Right there is where the change happened.

I started enjoying doing those things with him. Talking, laughing, cuddling, and joking around with each other became routine. Normal. A daily occurrence.

It freaked me out.

I started thinking about our future together, wondering if he would want to stay on the rez or if he would want to travel. Then came the thoughts about living together: his place or mine? Should we buy a place of our own? Would we stay on the rez or live somewhere in Forks? Which then progressed to the commitment questions: if we got married, would I keep my name or take his? Leah Clearwater, or Leah Black? Which sounds better?

Slowly but surely, my mind started to wander in_ that_ direction.

You know the one surrounded by little Tommys and Judys.

The daydreams involving little boys looking exactly like Jake, and little girls who have my nose and his smile, started.

Of course, I wouldn't tell anybody what I was daydreaming about. Ever. But, on occasion, when the line between dream and reality becomes blurred, sometimes, something may slip.

It happened once.

_One_ time.

And he still mocks me about it and smiles.

Jerk.

It's his fault anyways. _He_ made me into _that _type of woman.

He made me into a cuddler, into a woman who wants to daydream about little Jacob Juniors running around and being yelled at by Leah Juniors (who clearly take after their mother and are in charge of everything), who wants to get married, or at least be in a committed relationship.

(I'm not sure if I should thank him, or hit him.)

I want to do all those things with Jake because he's _that _guy for me.


End file.
